


Spoons of Glory

by lellabeth



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt, cooking silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:04:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lellabeth/pseuds/lellabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint lifted one hand to his cheek, smearing the flour Phil had thrown at him. “Oh, it’s on, Agent.”</p><p>Phil picked up two wooden spoons from the counter (and since when did Clint own those?). He crossed them over his chest in an X. “My name is Phil Coulson. You killed my vibe. Prepare to die.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spoons of Glory

Clint is what some people would call paranoid or what Natasha would call ‘not observant enough’. Still, he’d like to think anyone would be off-kilter if they came home to find their apartment walls shaking with the sound of guitar and a voice belting lyrics to Hotel California at the top of their lungs.

He edged around the wall separating the hall and kitchen carefully, dagger held between his index and middle finger ready to be thrown.

Only to see Phil Coulson wrapped in a pink apron, top button undone and flour across one cheek, smirking to himself as he sang ‘So I called up the Captain’.

Clint bit his lip to stop his smile from splitting his face in two. He sheathed his knife inside his waistband and jumped about six inches in the air when something thudded softly against the side of his cheek.

Phil, eyes sparkling and giggling, bent over at the waist. “Your face!”

Clint lifted one hand to his cheek, smearing the flour Phil had thrown at him. “Oh, it’s on, Agent.”

Phil picked up two wooden spoons from the counter (and since when did Clint own those?). He crossed them over his chest in an X. “My name is Phil Coulson. You killed my vibe. Prepare to die.”

Clint was still laughing when Phil came at him with the spoons. He watched Phil twirl and scissor them through the air, bringing them down on Clint’s arms as he tried to block, flicking his wrist so they’d knock him softly in the ribs or the chest. Clint lunged to the side to avoid a sideswipe to the face, twisting around so he could grab one of the spoons from Phil’s hands.

“Have you ever met Bobbi Morse?” Clint asked, panting.

“Who do you think taught her how to use those staves of hers?”

Phil came at him again, deft movements of his wrist making the spoon poke and smack Clint all over. Clint was trying to get in a few hits of his own, but Phil was the best he’d ever sparred with except Natasha. The man had a way of knowing Clint’s next move before he’d even thought of it himself.

Clint made to jab Phil in the chest with the handle-end of the spoon, but he ended up poking thin air.

“Shit, Phil, are you okay?” he asked the groaning figure lying on his kitchen floor.

“What have I told you about leaving your bag in walkways?”

Clint bent down so he could brush Phil’s hair off his forehead. “Are you okay, babe?”

“Nothing permanent,” Phil replied. “Though I am wondering when you got so trusting.”

And with that, he darted forward and tackled Clint around the shoulders. Clint flailed, but somehow Phil was cupping the back of his head before it could smack against the kitchen floor.

“Ouch,” Clint said all the same, because he wasn’t above using the hurt card once in a while.

“Want me to kiss you better?”

Phil’s lips were warm and still smiling when they touched his. Phil ran his fingers through Clint’s hair, and Clint didn’t even care about the flour that was getting anywhere. Phil kissed his top lip, sucked the bottom one into his mouth so his tongue could flick across it, just a little, and Clint melted into the kitchen floor.

He hoped Phil wasn’t making anything that would spoil within a few hours, because he didn’t plan on letting Phil up any time soon.


End file.
